


Roast Duck

by launchdad (fauxwizard)



Category: Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, drake is frasier. Hes frasier crane, drake mallard being overdramatic and good with kids, non-graphic injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26147872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxwizard/pseuds/launchdad
Summary: Drake's surprisingly good with kids. And he probably won't hold a grudge about this.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	Roast Duck

They traipse into the mansion’s foyer, frazzled and bruised and some a little on fire. The kids have escaped most of the damage, protected by the adults, and they’re hyper with adrenaline and the thrill of defying death. Scrooge is relying on his cane in earnest, and Donald flops onto the sofa, emitting copious amounts of smoke. Della limps in with her arm slung over Beakley’s shoulder, her prosthetic a mangled mess. Launchpad comes in last, cautiously tailing a badly injured Drake.

Gosalyn glances over her shoulder from where the kids are leaping around in excitement, worry etched in the crease of her brow. “Hey, Dad, are you… okay?”

Scrooge gulps audibly. The man took a chainsaw to the chest, and although he’d dodged out at the last moment, he’d still taken a vicious hit. He’s honestly shocked the lad’s still moving under his own power.

Drake straightens up to his full height, ignoring how Launchpad’s arms shoot out to catch him, and clears his throat grandly. “Darling child, your father is an  _ actor _ . A thespian. A consummate professional. It’d take much more than some pathetic little chainsaw to hurt Darkwing Duck!”

“Dude, we  _ saw _ you get shredded,” Louie says, twisting his hands in the hem of his hoodie.

“And  _ yet _ ,” Drake announces. “He lives! He flaps! He elocutes with intellectual abandon! If life is a performance, Drake Mallard’s got the Oscar nom’!”

“He gives himself the nomination, not the Oscar?” Huey mutters, then yelps when Drake doubles over. Launchpad’s hands fly to his sides, supporting him, but Drake waves a hand dismissively. Launchpad steps back, cautious.

“No… a child, a heartless critic?” Drake mutters, pressing one hand over his heart.

“What’s happening?” Huey asks worriedly, slipping the Junior Woodchuck guidebook out from under his hat, as if there’s a section in it for overdramatic weirdos. Webby shrugs, nonplussed.

“ _ Ohh, _ ” Dewey says loudly, slapping a hand to his head. “He’s an actor. The only thing that can hurt him is bad reviews.” Gosalyn tips her head back and groans.

“This one,  _ he _ could be an actor,” Drake says approvingly. “Sharp wit, good instincts. A flair for the dramatic. Have you ever considered becoming my understudy?”

“No, I’m more star material,” Dewey says offhand. “No offense.”

Drake gags and doubles over again. Webby giggles. Huey starts scribbling in his guidebook. Louie glances at Gosalyn, who’s grinning into her hoodie.

“I don’t know why we were worried about this guy anyway,” he says loudly, rolling his eyes. “Why would anyone want some second rate actor around is  _ beyond _ me.”

“ _ Louie! _ ” Della barks. Donald snorts into the couch.

Drake bends at the knees, hissing like a scalded cat. Gosalyn laughs out loud, then slaps her hands over her beak.

“Yeah, right!” Dewey yells, scrambling up to Drake. “You hack! You straight-to-video extra!”

“I am  _ wounded _ !” Drake bellows, slumping to the ground. “Slain!”

“Should we stop them?” Della mutters, leaning heavily against Beakley.

“Look at the girl,” Beakley murmurs.

Gosalyn is tugging at Drake’s cape, laughing hysterically. “C’mon Dad, they’re roasting you worse than  _ Entertainment Weekly _ !”

“Noooo, my own most darling daughter… Is nothing sacred?”

“Drake Mallard’s performance is a shining, unparalleled example… of everything  _ not _ to do as an actor,” Huey recites, tapping his pencil against the page thoughtfully. “Is that too harsh?”

There’s a gurgling sound from the caped heap that is Darkwing Duck, slumped over and breathing raggedly. 

“Ooh, can I try?” Webby asks, hopping up and down in place. “Um, the only thing I didn’t hate about Mr Mallard’s performance was Mr Mallard himself. I  _ loathed  _ him!”

Silence. Launchpad lets out a low whistle.

“I think we got him,” Dewey prods Drake with his foot.

“I feel bad now,” Huey says, tucking his guidebook back under his cap. “Should we get him back up?”

“I dunno how. He’s dead weight.” Louie says, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Gosalyn grins. “I have an idea.”

Scrooge hums, tapping a foot on the hardwood. “Incredible, really. Look at the wee ones go.”

Donald pulls his head free of the couch cushions to watch. The kids are standing over the body, calling out praise and accolades.

“He’s an artistic genius!” “Unrivaled in his field!”

Drake spasms.

“Drake Mallard’s performance taught me how to love again!” 

Drake jerks halfway up with a squawk, then collapses back to the ground.

“He’s a _tour de force_!”

The kids all gasp and stumble back as he rises. Like Dracula from his coffin, stiff as a plank with arms outstretched, Drake levers up, agonisingly slow, into a standing position. Throws his arms up into the air and exclaims, “HE LIVES!”

Huey screams. Scrooge covers his laugh with a cough.

“I WAS STRUCK WITH A CHAINSAW BY A MAN NOW  _ DEAD _ !” Drake hollers, utterly triumphant. Launchpad applauds.

“ _ However _ ,” Drake says, grim, lowering his arms to his sides and eyeing the surrounding children with suspicion. “It appears I’ve been  _ maligned _ by my critics. Some slew of heartless tykes  _ lambasting _ me and sullying my sterling reputation.”

“Gee, that’s awful, DW! What do we do?” Launchpad asks, scratching his head.

“Oh, well, it wouldn’t do for me to handle this myself. But perhaps I have a loyal fan with the strength and purity of heart to go to bat for me… oh, who knows.” He crosses to an armchair by the wall and sits down, legs crossed primly. “Perhaps justice will never be served.”

“I’ll defend your honour, Darkwing!” Launchpad yells, charging at the children. The ducklings flee, giggling, clambering up the grand staircase and running through the halls. Their laughter fades in echoes, thundering footsteps, shrieks and clattering doors.

“Yeesh,” Drake mutters, sounding earnestly exhausted. He deflates all at once, sagging into the chair and hissing. “Could I trouble any of you gawkers to call a doctor?”

**Author's Note:**

> try and spot which of drake's lines are frasier quotes


End file.
